


Edge of You (One Shot)

by LeafyGreenQueen773



Series: Whumptober 2019 [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Edge of Winter - Freeform, Hurt Peter Parker, M/M, Peter is an intern, Precious Peter Parker, Shaky Hands, Whump, Whumptober 2019, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 05:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20754899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeafyGreenQueen773/pseuds/LeafyGreenQueen773
Summary: Edge of Winter AU - No PowersOn a weekend trip to Canada, Tony's intern, Peter, nearly drowns when he falls through thin ice.Written for Whumptober 2019 - Prompt 1: Shaky Hands





	Edge of You (One Shot)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've put out in MONTHS and I'm definitely rusty, but I enjoyed the whump and the smut, so I hope you guys do, too. I don't know if I'll be posting something for every Whumptober prompt, but I like a lot of them so I'll give it my best shot.
> 
> Also, I've seen all of Tom's movies, and Edge of Winter is pretty good. The scene where Tom's character nearly drowns is what this story is based on.

“Okay, okay, _ fuck _, this...this isn’t as bad as it seems, right? I mean…” Tony faltered, words failing him as he rooted around his coat pockets, straining to hear the telltale jangling of keys. Freezing water was soaking through his puffy down jacket and into his flannel layer where he had Peter crushed to his side.

Finally, Tony’s hands closed on the keychain, buried at the bottom of his jeans pocket, and he struggled for what seemed like an eternity to get the key jammed into the lock and turned, until finally there was the God-sent _ click _ of the deadbolt sliding into the mechanism and they both practically fell forward as the door swung in.

“It’s okay, Peter, I got you, let’s get these clothes off, come on, fast --”

Peter sank to the floor, his face a deathly pale color under his mop of drenched hair. He was panting, coughing out the water he’d inhaled when he fell through the thin ice on the lake they’d just trudged across. Everything had been covered by a thick layer of snow. Tony hadn’t even realized they’d been walking on water until there was a cracking sound and suddenly Peter was submerged in it.

They had to get his wet clothes off, now.

Tony reached down and pulled off Peter’s sopping mittens, then tore at the snaps on his coat until Peter could shrug it off his shoulders. Everything was clinging to the kid, from his sweatshirt and jeans to the coat, which Tony had found in the back of his truck after they’d gotten stranded.

None of this was supposed to happen this way. They shouldn’t have needed to walk six miles in the freezing cold Canadian January in order to get to the rustic cabin Tony had been holding onto for thirty years. He’d only even been up here once, in his late teens, and he’d had the wild idea that it would be fun to take his intern on a wilderness weekend to a place he barely remembered.

Now his intern was on the floor, hands shaking so hard that he couldn’t even unzip his hoodie.

“There we go, almost there, come on,” Tony managed. His own fingers were getting numb with cold, and he clumsily gripped the zipper to free Peter from his sweatshirt. His intern obediently raised his arms as Tony grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it off over the kid’s head.

Peter’s torso was white, as pale as his face; Peter was so skinny that Tony could see his skin moving over his ribs as he lowered his arms. Goosebumps had broken out over his whole body.

It was too fucking cold in the cabin.

Tony got unsteadily to his feet and spied the wood burner in the corner. “Get your jeans off while I start a fire,” he ordered. He turned away as he saw the kid’s trembling hands go to his waist.

There were matches, _ thank God _, sitting next to the gas stove. It took several of them to light the ancient wood logs sitting in the wood burner, but luckily an out-of-print magazine laying on the floor nearby made sufficient kindling. By the time Tony had the fire going, he’d stopped hearing Peter’s harsh gasps and coughs behind him.

The kid was now on his side on the floor, huddled under a holey, but dry, quilted blanket, leaving only his damp hair down to his squeezed-shut eyelids visible. The whole blanket was shaking.

“T-T-Tony.”

“Peter, you okay? You gonna be okay?”

“I-I’m...so c-cold.”

His voice sounded tiny, uncontrollable. Tony barely comprehended the fact that he was pulling off his own coat, taking off his flannel, until he was there on the floor, getting under the blanket with his intern. He had to do this. Somewhere, in some academic journal -- or maybe in a movie -- he’d heard about this. Skin-to-skin warmth, making sure that cold blood from the extremities didn’t overwhelm the heart. 

He pulled Peter to his chest and held on fiercely as the kid shivered in his arms.

~~~

Sometime, eventually, Peter’s breathing evened out. It was hard to say if he would develop pneumonia or if he’d gotten frostbite, but at least he was alive, and not dying of hypothermia. If Tony ever got them out of this wilderness, he could at least return Peter to his aunt in pretty much one piece.

The wood in the burner crackled slowly until the flames started to die. Tony disentangled himself from Peter, who barely stirred in his presumably-exhausted sleep, and got up to add two more logs from the cob-webby pile against the wall. He almost remembered chopping that wood thirty years ago.

If his memory served him well in other ways, then there was a cot in one of the rooms of this godforsaken building. He made his way through the gloom, hand running along the wall for guidance -- since there was no electricity to light the place -- until he came to the end of the short hallway that led off the kitchen. Sure enough, there was a small bedroom there, with what was probably a mouse-ridden mattress sitting atop a metal frame.

He went back for the kid, who weighed all of nothing as Tony gently picked him up off the floor and carried him to the mattress. Only when Tony positioned him on the bed did Peter’s eyelids finally flutter open. His eyes looked black, pupils dilated to the edges of his irises in the darkness.

“Don’t go.”

Tony swallowed. “I’ll just be out in the other room.”

“No, please. Stay. It’s warmer with you.” Peter swallowed too, audibly, from his place a few feet away. The blankets shuffled as the kid scooted to one side of the mattress, trying to make space for his decades-older mentor and boss.

Of course, they’d shot the mentor-and-mentee relationship dead when Tony had invited Peter to go on a weekend trip with him and the kid had actually agreed. It didn’t make it any easier to oblige to Peter’s requests. “I don’t think you exactly want me to cuddle with you, kid. We haven’t had a proper shower in two days. I smell like ass.”

He was met with silence, a stubborn silence, and he could feel his intern staring him down from where he was curled up.

Fine. He could be altruistic. It was, after all, his fault that Peter was stranded out here in the middle of nowhere, anyway. It was his fault that Peter had almost drowned today, or nearly died of hypothermia.

Tony kicked off his shoes and shuffled toward Peter, his eyes not quite adjusted yet to the dark, and carefully sank his weight onto the stale-smelling mattress. He was barely on the bed before Peter threw one side of the blankets over him. For a moment, they both situated themselves, covering limbs and trying to get as comfortable as possible without pillows -- really, without anything more than a moth-eaten quilt.

Then they both stilled, and all Tony could hear was Peter’s quiet breathing, slightly fast.

“Were you scared?”

Tony didn’t ask Peter what he was referring to. “Yeah. You?”

Peter’s breath was warm against Tony’s shoulder as he exhaled. “Yeah. I kinda thought I was going to be trapped under the ice. You know, for a split second. Almost saw my life flash before my eyes.”

Guilt bubbled up in Tony’s stomach. “All twelve seconds of it?” he forced himself to joke.

“Very funny.” Peter pulled himself even closer to Tony. Too close. “I’m nineteen, you know.”

Tony did know. He’d read the kid’s resume himself, back when he hired him two years ago. But the way that Peter said those words now sent a shiver down Tony’s spine that he desperately tried to ignore. It certainly would be easier to ignore if Peter weren’t barely two inches away from him. “Nineteen is not very old,” Tony managed.

“Sure it is. Old enough to do lots of things, Tony.”

“Not much.”

“Join the military, for one.”

“True -- ”

“Buy cigarettes.”

“They’re raising that to 21 in a lot of places, you know -- ”

Peter’s leg brushed against Tony’s, or rather, against the jeans that Tony was still sporting. Yet even that minor touch seemed electric, and stopped Tony’s comeback in his throat. Was Peter even aware that he’d done that? Christ, when did the freezing cold cabin suddenly feel so _ warm _? And, come to think of it, when had the kid even started calling him Tony?

“Look,” Peter huffed, and Tony could smell the kid’s exhale, he was so close, “I’m trying to say that I was really terrified today, and you saved my life, and I really need you to know that it made me realize -- ” Peter broke off, or maybe his voice failed him. 

“How short life is?” Tony offered, seriously.

Peter made a weak sound next to him, like he was holding back tears. Tony turned onto his side to comfort the kid, raised his hand to wipe away a tear, or pat him on the shoulder, maybe. Something mentorly.

He didn’t expect Peter to catch his hand with his own, and to raise Tony’s fingers to his mouth until they were pressed against Peter’s lips.

Everything was still. 

Yet, Tony felt molten. 

The softness of Peter’s kiss was wildly contrasted by the pinch of Tony’s jeans at his front; he was suddenly half-hard. “What…” Peter didn’t take Tony’s fingers away from his lips as he spoke; his soft skin dragged up and down Tony’s knuckles. 

“I really like you, Tony. I didn’t want to tell you at first, but, like you said, life is short.” Peter was now grasping Tony’s hand with both of his. “Please, tell me if I’m out of line here, tell me if you want me to stop.”

Blood was rushing in Tony’s ears, and inconveniently going to other places, too. “Have you ever been with someone? Before?” Tony forced himself to say. 

Peter hesitated. “I. I don’t want anyone else.”

Jesus. The kid was a virgin, wasn’t he? It was all the worse that just the thought of ruining Peter made Tony’s dick fill the rest of the way. He hadn’t gotten hard so fast since he was in his early thirties.

Yet, the kid was right. Was it pointless to deny Peter -- and himself -- this? Especially when it had become so painfully clear this afternoon that all it took was a flimsy layer of ice and some deathly cold water, and it could all be over?

“I don’t want you to stop,” Tony whispered. He gently pulled his hand away from Peter’s grip, then took Peter’s own hand in his and led it down under the blanket, until it was pressed against Tony’s undeniable erection. “Do you feel that? I’m definitely interested.”

Peter’s breath hitched spectacularly, and suddenly Tony’s hand was being led, too, towards Peter’s waist. It wasn’t until it was too late that he remembered how Peter was only wearing boxers. Through the thin fabric, Tony could feel every ridge of his intern’s desire, and even the damp spot where Peter had already been precumming.

Well, Christ, let it never be said that he couldn’t take a hint.

He flattened his hand against Peter’s cock and began to palm him in earnest through his boxers. The ungodly groan that came through Peter’s teeth was caught in Tony’s mouth, and Tony freed his other hand long enough to slip it behind Peter’s head and pull the fluffy, tangled hair tight.

And Jesus, the response. Peter bucked like an animal, like he’d never been touched before in his whole life. Tony fought back, licking into the kid’s mouth, applying as much pressure to his cock as he figured Peter could take. He swallowed the whimpers that were cascading out of his intern like pleas.

“Does this feel good, Peter?” Tony pulled away long enough to murmur. “I want to make you feel good.”

Peter was panting. “Yes, I -- holy shit, you’re amazing -- ”

“And you’re perfect.” Tony dragged his fingertips up Peter’s erection and was rewarded with jerking hips and a growing spot of precum. “Do you like that? How about when I pull your hair?” Tony yanked Peter’s head back a fraction of an inch, and the kid in his arms shivered -- a mockery of the reason he’d been shivering earlier, a much better reason. 

“God, yes,” Peter gasped. His voice sounded higher, like his pitch climbed with his pleasure. “So good. So good.”

Tony pulled Peter’s hair back further, and took advantage of the kid’s exposed jaw by kissing down it. He could feel Peter’s Adam’s apple jumping, swallowing around nothing; Peter’s body felt strung tight.

“I want to make you come, Peter.”

“P-Please, please, I -- ” Tony nipped at Peter’s skin, cutting him off with a cry. “I want to, I want to…”

“Have you ever come with someone else?” Tony growled, not letting up for a second on the pressure he was applying to Peter’s dick.

Peter whimpered. “No, nobody else. _ Please _, Tony. Don’t stop.”

“I won’t stop,” Tony assured him. He pulled Peter close so that the kid could pant into his shoulder while Tony’s hand finally slipped underneath the waistband of Peter’s damp boxers. He was met with slick precum, a patch of fine, curly hair, and humid heat around Peter’s burning skin. Tony ran his grip down Peter’s shaft -- the kid seemed painfully hard. Tony wanted to feel Peter lose control.

“You feel amazing, Pete. So responsive. I can feel how tight you’re holding yourself.”

“Yeah,” Peter gasped against Tony’s skin.

“I want you to focus on that pressure you feel. Focus on that pressure.”

“Yeah.” The pitch of Peter’s voice was higher again -- he was going in the right direction.

“Feel all of that coil up, until it feels like it can’t coil anymore.”

“T-Tony,” Peter interjected, cutting off their litany. “Don’t -- don’t stop, I’m -- ” The next words shot up an octave in Peter’s breathy voice. “Oh God, I’m -- ”

Tony crushed Peter against his chest again, furiously stripping his intern’s cock, and he felt Peter break apart against him. He didn’t know what sound he’d expected, but Peter’s long whine, desperate and relieved all at once, was better than anything he’d imagined. Peter pulsed in his hand, sending warm cum striping up Tony’s forearm.

It was a long minute before his intern’s frantic breathing came back under control.

Still, minutes passed and Peter didn’t speak. The silence made Tony’s heart stutter against his ribcage. He carefully pulled away from Peter, to look him in the eyes. It was nearly impossible to read the kid’s face in the darkness.

Tony swallowed. “Was that okay? Are you okay?”

Peter reached up between them and smoothed his hair out of his face. Even in the almost non-existent light, Tony could tell that the kid was trembling. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Then why are your hands shaking?”

Peter let out a short laugh. “Because I just had a mind-blowing orgasm. And, to be honest, I’m a little nervous.”

Tony’s heart dropped. “About what?”

“About this.”

Then, Peter disappeared beneath the blanket. A second later, Tony felt quivering fingers at his waistband.

Oh.

Oh Jesus.

When Peter’s mouth finally closed around him, Tony could barely remember his own name.

And when he grabbed Peter’s hair as his hips jerked, the frigid waters he’d nearly lost the kid in were the furthest thing from his mind. 


End file.
